Homie winced. “I really don’t know. Or, well, I can guess. Cheeks went out and got himself caught. I don’t know how they tracked him down, though. Might have shown off to some of the girls here. You know how women can be.”

There was a groaning sigh. “Amateurish.”

“He was new. Plenty of potential, but a bit of a pushover. Not a bad thing, but . . . yeah. His power wasn’t all that great, at least. So no big loss there.”

“I’ve yet to hear of an entirely useless power,” the boss said. “It’s a lost opportunity, but these are times of opportunity. We’ll make back the loss.”

“You think this was the Cabal?” Homie asked. He wanted a definitive no. The boss was, surprisingly, an honest guy. If he said it wasn’t the shadowy freaks, then it was probably just some fluke.

“I can’t say either way,” the boss said. “Get me that drive and we’ll know better.”

Homie nodded again. “Can do. And, uh, you got anything on that Melaton woman? I looked through her Ikipedia profile, but it’s not much. If she comes knocking, I want to be ready.”

“I’ll send you what I have. I’m afraid it’s not much,” the boss said. “I have far less on the other two accompanying her.”

“They looked like sidekicks or something,” Homie said. “Nothing to worry about, right?”

“I suppose not. Good evening, H. Stay safe, and keep an ear open for my next message.”

“Will do, Big S.”

The line went dead. A moment later, the inside of his desk buzzed. Homie’s eyes unfocused as he read the text. Just an address, one that he memorized by repeating a few times while he flicked his phone over and had it land in its recharging cradle.

The drawer popped open and the phone within flew up and into his back pocket as he picked up the laptop with the drive and shoved it into a carrying bag.

He’d get the boss’s work done, then he could put some of his smaller worries behind him for a time.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Gentle Persuasion

E-Wright: When can we meet?

Mel: Not any time soon.

E-Wright: But the drive?

Mel: I know. Still filling things out. Should be free by this evening. Calm your tits.

Emily shoved her phone away and stood up to pace. Time was ticking and it felt like . . . like waiting in line at the dentist’s office, knowing they were going to tear out a cavity with their little drills and not being able to do anything about it.

Worse, at least the cavities were her own fault. The drive thing . . . wasn’t.